Dragon Heart
by HaloGatomon
Summary: A LOTR story with a twist from the film Dragon Heart, written by myself and Bill the Pony. When Aragorn is wounded in battle saving Legolas, his only chance to live is to accept an offer from a dragon.
1. Many Reunions

Authors ~ Halo Son and Bill the Pony  
  
Disclaimer ~ Bill and I do NOT own LOTR (which is a major bummer really…I think most of the world wishes they owned them…) and we do NOT own Dragon Heart or the principle for it either.  
  
Rating ~ PG  
  
Authors' Notes ~ Halo: This is the first time I've written a story with another author before, but I am very happy to be doing so *hugs Bill*. This story is a collective effort between me (Halo Son) and Bill the Pony, so PLEASE give credit to both of us and not just one person. And Bill is a god, I demand you all worship Bill!  
  
Bill: I am NOT a god  
  
Halo: Are too!  
  
Bill: Am not! There's only one of those. Now Cassia and Sio may be the little angelic beings under him...  
  
Halo: Fine then! They are the baby Valar of the Mellon Chronicles series and of evil cliffhangers!  
  
*Halo and Bill nod their heads*  
  
Summary ~ A LOTR story with a twist from the film Dragon Heart. When Aragorn is wounded saving Legolas his only chance to live is to accept an offer from a dragon, but what are the consequences of his decision? When the King starts acting unlike himself, will anyone defy or go against him for the good of Gondor and its people?  
  
  
  
  
  
The Lord Of The Rings  
  
Dragon Heart  
  
Chapter 1-Many Reunions  
  
  
  
  
"Well we are called to council and told to come with haste and when we arrive no one is here to meet us." Gimli grumbled.  
  
"Patience Gimli, we will be met in a moment." Legolas replied to his dwarf companion, attempting to hide a wayward smile. "Though patience is one of the qualities dwarves tend to lack."  
  
Gimli grunted indignantly in response and Legolas did his best to hold in his mirth, but secretly the dwarf didn't mind the elf's jests as he had grown used to them, being in the fair creature's company for many a time and all.  
  
Like the elf, Gimli was happy to be once again in the dwelling of Minas Tirith, if only to see their dear friend, King Elessar, once more.  
  
It had been just under a few years since the dwarf had last been in the company of the King of Gondor and Anor, but he knew for Legolas that it had been much longer. Being a prince was not easy matter and as a consequence Legolas had many royal duties to attend to.   
  
However, thanks to a most welcome visit from Gimli, Legolas had been allowed some free time to go with the dwarf to see the Glittering Caves once more. Though whether Legolas called that a desirable break or not was another matter.  
  
Then a few days ago, Gimli and Legolas received a message from Minas Tirith asking for their presence at a council with King Elessar, but Gimli suspected that was an excuse just to get them there merely for a reunion.  
  
It was no secret to Legolas and Gimli that King Elessar had tried the same tactic on King Eomer of Rohan and it had worked too. Even as a king, Aragorn was still as young at heart as the elf remembered him to be and for that Legolas was grateful.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli son of Gloin, a wondrous sight it is to see you both again."   
  
Legolas and Gimli turned to the sound of the voice and smiled as towards them walked Queen Arwen and a tall young man who looked almost like Aragorn except for a few features.  
  
"My lady, it is a wonder to see you again." Legolas replied with a small bow. He then glanced at the man beside her. "Do tell me Lady Arwen, King Elessar has not started to grow younger has he? I am sure I remember him being of older face and a few lines of silver in his hair the last time I saw him."  
  
"Prince Legolas, you jest with me." The young man said with a spirited smile. "I am Prince Eldarion, son of King Elessar and Queen Arwen."  
  
"My eyes must be deceiving me!" Legolas cried with a mocking alarm. "For the last time I saw Prince Eldarion he was no more than the age of twelve years!"  
  
"Shows how much you've made an effort to come here." Gimli mumbled teasingly under his breath.  
  
"And what is that supposed to mean *dwarf*?"  
  
"Exactly as it sounds *elf*!"  
  
The whole escapade caused Arwen to laugh joyously. Oh how long she had longed to hear the jesting words of Legolas and Gimli again. Even Eldarion was not doing very well controlling his mirth.  
  
"I hear the sounds of laughter within my halls." A voice boomed. "That can only mean one thing."  
  
"Aragorn!" Legolas greeted happily, walking hastily to his long time human friend and embracing him. "It has been too long old friend."  
  
"Old?" Aragorn raised an eyebrow and stole a glance at his snickering son. "You have not changed a bit from how I have remembered you Legolas."  
  
"Nor have you Aragorn. You are still as head strong and unyielding as you used to be." Legolas replied.  
  
"Insufferable elf!"  
  
"Stubborn human!"  
  
The laughter of the human and elf drifted graciously through the hallways, though it was soon interrupted by new voices.  
  
"Elrohir do you hear what I do?"  
  
"Are you suggesting my hearing is weaker than yours Elladan?"  
  
"Why dear brother, I would never suggest such a thing."  
  
"You jest your own brother on purpose, do you not?"  
  
"How would you know if I was?"  
  
"I used to do the same to my own brother when we were young ones."  
  
"Ah, it appears that my elven brother and Faramir have arrived." Aragorn grinned at Legolas, who merely raised a questionable eyebrow.  
  
"Then this whole journey was for reunion reasons was it not Aragorn?" Gimli spoke up.  
  
"Is that not what you were told in the message?" Arwen asked, already guessing what was going to come next.  
  
"I'm afraid it was not dear Lady." Gimli replied, resting his hands on his axe. "We were told to come with haste, for our council was required."  
  
"Estel! For shame!" Arwen glared at her husband. "You set bad examples for Eldarion!"  
  
"Mother!" Eldarion groaned awkwardly.   
  
"He is my son!" Aragorn retorted.  
  
"Yes and that is what worries us." Legolas muttered, earning himself a cuff round the head.  
  
"You should know better." Arwen said. "I hope you do know better Eldarion."  
  
"Yes mother, I do." Replied the Prince.  
  
Gimli was now shaking with repressed laughter at the expense of his human and elven friends. He found exchanges like this highly amusing and part of the reason he enjoyed their company as much as he did.  
  
"What has Estel done now dear sister?" Elladan asked as he, Elrohir and Faramir stepped inside and stood next to Gimli.   
  
"It's a shame father is no longer here to straighten our young brother out is it not Elladan?" Elrohir joined in the teasing. "Now we have to do it."  
  
"You two are no better," Aragorn mumbled under his breath.  
  
"They haven't changed a bit either," Legolas added.  
  
"It's good to see you too dear Prince of Mirkwood," Elladan greeted sarcastically.  
  
"Aragorn, I know not how you cope," Faramir whispered when he reached the King's side.   
  
"Nor I Faramir," The man agreed.  
  
"What was that little brother?" Elladan spoke in his typical narrowed voice he used whenever Aragorn made a comment intent on annoying the twins.  
  
"He has a death wish brother," Elrohir said.  
  
"I do believe it is you two who have death wishes." Eldarion spoke up with a grin, enjoying teasing his elven uncles. "Do you want me to remind you of the archery incident?"  
  
"Do not start!" Elladan said, pointing an accusing finger at Eldarion who merely snorted in laughter.  
  
"Oh this tale I wish to hear!" Legolas grinned, rubbing his hands together.  
  
"And so you shall dear friend!" Aragorn declared. "Come all of you. Dinner will be ready soon and I wish for you all to join us."  
  
"Very well, noble King." Legolas grinned as Aragorn shot him another glare.  
  
"Noble…right…" Elladan mumbled, electing a playful cuff round his head from Arwen.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Legolas smiled to himself as he reattached his elven clasp to the outfit he had finished putting on for dinner. Arwen had suggested they all change into different clothing for a change and it felt good to wear something different for once.  
  
There was a small knock on the door to Legolas' allocated chambers and the elf called for whomever it was to come inside.  
  
"Eldarion! Please do come inside."  
  
The young prince smiled and closed the door behind him as he walked to Legolas and gave him a warm embrace.  
  
"I have been wondering when you would return." Eldarion said. "I have missed you my friend."  
  
"As have I Eldarion, but alas royal duties have kept me away for far too long. As I said before the last time I saw you, you were only of twelve years."  
  
"And how I have grown. I am a man now of twenty one years."  
  
"Look at you now my friend! You most certainly have grown and I see more of your parents within you than I ever did! You portray your father in looks, though you have your mother's eyes and ears and the complexion of them both."  
  
"Indeed, though I am told I have my father's foul sense of humour."  
  
"Oh the Valar help us!"  
  
The two princes laughed together until there was another knock on the door and Gimli entered…or rather…  
  
"What in all of the Valar…"  
  
"Who is this cloth monster?"  
  
"Do not start!" The dwarf threatened. "I could not find any of these garments that would fit me!""  
  
Eldarion was trying his best to contain his laughter while Legolas grinned as he was reminded of the incident at Helm's Deep.  
  
"Perhaps Gimli, it would best if you wore your usual clothes." Legolas said with mirth in his voice.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The dinner was eaten heartily and now the gathered group of friends were swapping tales and amusing stories while drinking the finest wine Gondor had to offer.  
  
"So not only did uncle Elladan manage to shoot himself in the shoulder, but the bird which had distracted him would not leave him alone. The little thing kept sitting on his head!" Eldarion said, finishing the archery tale.  
  
"It is most fortunate brother that it did not decide to make a nest on your head." Aragorn teased.  
  
Elladan scowled as the halls filled with glorious laughter one more. But as it started to die down, he got a twinkle of merriment in his eyes.  
  
"Well then dear nephew, perhaps everyone would like to hear of the tale of how you managed to end up like a mud monster."  
  
The young prince of Gondor stopped laughing and first stared at Elladan in disbelief before giving him a death glare.  
  
"I fear I have not heard this story." Aragorn said, grinning at Elladan. "And I wish to hear it."  
  
"Very well."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Dear nephew I cannot refuse an order of the King."  
  
Eldarion scowled deeply as Legolas and Elrohir fell into another round of mass laughter.  
  
However, before Elladan could begin the tale, one of the royal guards entered the dining hall.  
  
"King Elessar, I have a message for you my king."  
  
Aragorn excused himself and went with the guard just outside of the dining hall.  
  
"I wonder what the message is," Eldarion wondered allowed.  
  
"Most likely Estel has gotten himself into trouble again." Elladan baited, resting his head on Elrohir's shoulder as both twins laughed again.  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes and Gimli had an expression on his face that clearly said 'cracked those elves are!' and the elf prince was inclined to agree with him.  
  
"Perhaps those two should leave off the wine for tonight." Legolas mumbled under his breath.  
  
When Aragorn returned Arwen rose from her seat and went to him, wrapping her arms around one of his.  
  
"What is it my love?"  
  
"Just a minor disagreement between two villages. They cannot come to an agreement over a small dispute. I have decided to ride out and settle it with them myself."  
  
"But 'ere the sun will set soon." Arwen said worriedly.  
  
"I will not be too long." Aragorn replied with a comforting smile.  
  
"I will ride with him Arwen" Legolas said, rising from his seat.  
  
"As will I." Gimli added.  
  
"I would also like to join you father." Eldarion agreed.  
  
Aragorn raised his hand, "There is no need for you to join me Eldarion. It is a simple matter and will not take long. Besides, no need for us both to worry your mother is there?"  
  
Eldarion, though a little disappointed, nodded and sat back down.  
  
"I shall join you in his stead then." Faramir said.  
  
Aragorn nodded his thanks and the assembled group left the dining hall. Elladan and Elrohir finished their incessant snickering and looked up with confused faces.  
  
"Where did everyone go?"  
  
  
  
TBC… 


	2. One Too Many Mistakes

Authors ~ Halo Son and Bill the Pony  
  
Disclaimer ~ Bill and I do NOT own LOTR (which is a major bummer really…I think most of the world wishes they owned them…) and we do NOT own Dragon Heart or the principle for it either.  
  
Rating ~ PG  
  
Authors' Notes ~ Halo: Look everyone! We have been good! We are now posting chappie 2!  
Bill: YAY! Reviews! Lots and lots of reviews!  
Halo: Um Bill…do you think it may be a good idea to run away very, very quickly now?  
Bill: *blinks*  
Halo: Remember how this chappie ends?  
Bill: Yeah…oh…*runs*  
Halo: ACK! Wait for me! *Runs after Bill*  
  
  
Summary ~ A LOTR story with a twist from the film Dragon Heart. When Aragorn is wounded saving Legolas his only chance to live is to accept an offer from a dragon, but what are the consequences of his decision? When the King starts acting unlike himself, will anyone defy or go against him for the good of Gondor and its people?  
  
  
  
  
The Lord Of The Rings  
  
Dragon Heart  
  
Chapter 2-One Too Many Mistakes  
  
  
  
The light of the sun was not destined to be their ally this night. It sunk from sight the moment Roheryn's hoof first touched the cooling earth. In all of their hearts, it struck an ill foreboding.   
  
It was as the company passed in a small procession beneath the white arch that the last hints of the sun's glow died entirely, and with that little comfort died their high spirits. None felt this quite as keenly as the prince of Eryn Lasgalen and one of the noble lords of Ithilien. A chord had changed to a minor in the undying song of Ilúvitar, dampening the joy and bliss he had just shared in a merry reunion with friends from all reaches.   
  
Roheryn's ears pricked forward, his nostrils flaring as he tested the night breeze. Aragorn patted the silky black neck, stilling the horse's nervous fidgeting as the wind picked up, rustling hair, mane, and the long grasses of the plains. Something in the cool air tingled in all the four-legged beasts an anxious shiver, a faint smell of sour malice.   
  
"Friend, do you not think that in time they will settle their petty dispute? We can depart in the morning if yet there is ill will among them," Faramir spoke at Elessar's shoulder. His concern was not well guised. His light azure eyes narrowed as he stared out tot he shadowed road. "Or allow a number of your men to go out so you may remain behind and spend time with your family. In my business visits I have seen that you spare far too little time."   
  
Aragorn nudged Roheryn into a jog, signalling the others to do likewise. "Waiting would only lead to more blood shed."  
  
Faramir kept pace beside him. "Then allow that number to depart now, if that will so ease your heart and that will leave you to tend to more pressing matters."   
  
"You do not call a village threatening to massacre each other a 'pressing matter'?"  
  
The Dúnadan shook his head, his hand tightening around the reins. "Nay, Aragorn, but must I remind you that you are no longer a Ranger, but a king? You cannot risk yourself as you did before."  
  
"Faramir is right, friend." Legolas said from where he rode beside the king. There was a knowing twinkle in the elf's eye. He remembered all too well the adventures he had shared and heard tell of by way of the elven twins from Imladris. Then the elf's tone turned grave, his sharp gaze seeking out the cause of the unease stirring in him. "Something feels, off. There is a warning in my heart that things will go ill this night."  
  
Aragorn had heard quite enough. He had learned to have a long-suffering patience after he had taken up his duty as king, but there were yet things that he would not do. One of which was to sit idle. Why must being a king change so much, did they really expect him to remain the picture on the hall, or the statue in the courtyard to which the people looked to for protection while his men and friends did the real labour?   
  
He raised a hand, silencing Faramir's next attempt to convince him otherwise than what he had decided. "I am a king, yes, but I am still a Ranger. No rank or blood can change that," he said strongly.   
  
"But Aragorn," Gimli began clinging to Legolas's slender waist from where he sat behind the elf upon Arod. "Do you find it so insufferable to use some thread of caution as to…"  
  
Roheryn halted at his master's bidding, the few men following progressively reining their mounts in at the abrupt stop. A spark of impatience ignited in Aragorn's eye, one that Gimli had seen before. "Do not turn on me as well Gimli, it seems I have enough mothers to hound me already."   
  
The dwarf of Erebor posted his callused hands on his stout thighs, feeling for the time seated enough as they had stopped their forward motion. "You are mistaken, Aragorn. I do not turn against you, neither do I seek to mother you, none of us are. Goodness knows, man," Gimli chuckled deeply with a throaty grumble, "that would be a hopeless cause for anyone, save of course the Lady Arwen. But hear me now, we seek only to give you counsel, counsel that sounds quite sound in my aged logic." The dwarf tugged a bushy strand of greying beard.   
  
Aragorn lowered his voice to a condescending tone, too low for the other men, save for Legolas, Faramir and Gimli, to hear. "Since when did the dwarves give sound counsel? We waste precious time in pointless discourse while men threaten to cut each other's throats! I will not sit in a cushioned chair and leave the protection of my people to others." The king took a breath, turning away from his friends. When next e spoke, his voice was controlled and cool as a winter breeze. "I have taken your counsel, I have thought on it, and I have chosen against it."  
  
Wordlessly, Aragorn nudged his black horse into a swift canter from a standstill. The king left no room to be questioned. His posture was ridged, and if his companions could have seen his face, they might have mistaken it for an imaged of a warrior carved in stone.   
  
Faramir's brow tightened as the king's chosen riders passed around them like the streams water flowing around a solitary stone. "He is a good king, Legolas my friend, but it is said that an old horse is hard to re-train to a new discipline."  
  
The elf beside him laughed sadly. "I do not think that Kind Éomer would so readily agree with your analogy." He patted Arod's neck, the horse fidgeted beneath the elf and the dwarf, eager not to be left behind. "I think that 'Once a Ranger, always a Ranger' may be more fitting."  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
  
Torches lit the night, flickering and licking hungrily at the darkness. The orange light danced across scowling faces, deepening every scowl and snarl. Women hugged their children to their breasts, huddled in the doorways of their huts, watching with wide eyes as the their men folk's heated tempers clashed. How had it come to this, why must their husbands and firstborn sons threaten their brothers over earth? Dirt! Were they really willing to destroy each other over dirt?  
  
The men were divided, a strip of earth five feet wide acting as an invisible wall. But walls did nothing to repel bitter words. Heavy ash staves and curved sickles were thrust in the air, emphasising both threat and oath. Blood boiled, and it seemed that that crimson gift would be spilled upon the earth they fought and quarrelled over all too soon.   
  
It was at the swell of this battle of wills where words were ready to break way to steel that the king and his company mounted the knoll overlooking the settlement. The women folk gasped, hands clamped to their mouths in both fear and relief. Their king was a just man, noble and fair in his ways. But children still feared the rod of discipline that no mindful parent would spare, even if they knew and believed firmly that it was out of love. Wives and sisters, mothers and daughters all feared for their loved ones, what would their king do? They had not expected for word to reach the city of the drama in the village, neither had they ever dreamed that the king, himself, would ride out to settle the matter!   
  
Seated straight in the saddle, his shoulders pushed back and his head held high, Aragorn rode forth from the hill, descending into the settlement with Faramir, the Steward of Gondor on his left and Legolas and Gimli on his right. The captain of the king's guard rode behind them, leading his riders. Even small in number as they were, they struck a powerful sight, but not powerful enough to dismay the anger of the men.  
  
Roheryn ducked his broad head as Aragorn sat back in the saddle, pulling to a halt. "Word of your troubles have reached my ears, fellow men of Gondor. What is it that divides you so?" said Aragorn.  
  
The men backed a step, looking to each other in collective unease. Each one waited for another to speak and answer their king. It was a man of many seasons that stepped forward for one side. He bore many scars and his skin leathery from long hours of toiling in the path of the sun. But his eye, the one he still had, was bright with spirit. The man bent a knee stiffly, out of respect to his king. "They, the men of the south fields I mean, are claiming our land as their own to harvest. They say that it is theirs and we have no right to it."   
  
"What is your name, friend?" Aragorn asked, leaning on the cantle of the saddle.   
  
"I am Halden, sire, and I have long protected the people of this village. It is my duty to see that they are not taken advantage of as these scroungers seek to do." The man named now known as Halden, cast his single eye on the men to his left after rising.   
  
There was an ill-favoured growl that rumbled from the throat of a comparatively young and wild haired man of the opposing side. "You lie, son of scum! We are neither scroungers nor plunderers. We seek only to take back what is ours. Generations have my family farmed the land you now waste yourself upon, Halden. Before even you were born, was this earth ours!"   
  
Aragorn straightened, his heart was not turned to favour this quick tongued youth, but it was his duty to hear both sides. "Pray tell then, lad, what do you call yourself?"  
  
"I am called Krisk, and it is my duty to see that my people are given their dues and not cheated by these thieves! I must be sharp as my name so dubs me if I am to see through this man's lies," said Krisk.   
  
"Krisk," repeated Aragorn. "It is a fitting name, but I think that is not so much as to do with your mind as it pertains to your tongue." It was a gentle reprimand, but served only to ruffle the feathers of the young hawk all the more. Aragorn saw this, and he was grieved to see so much spirit wasted in such a greedy and overzealous mind. "You each claim to own this land, and you each claim to name it in your people's name. But I wonder, which one of you really means this?"   
  
Halden tipped his head in respect as Aragorn met his one eye. "Lord, these men are mongers for blood, I have seen it before. They wish only for this good tilled earth to spoil with their foul attempts for farming. They see our plenty and want it for their own!"   
  
Krisk cried in rage, his sword shrieking from its scabbard. The sword was old and scarred by irresponsible use, as was its sheath. Clearly, Krisk knew little of how to care for his weapons. It was either that, or he was too lazy to do so. "Halden, you serpent! I would have your head mounted on a spear if I had my way!"   
  
Beside Aragorn, Faramir, Legolas and Aragorn tensed along with the king's guards. Hands tightened on hilts. Faramir raised a hand slightly then lowered it slowly and by the tilt of his head he motioned the men to remove their hands from their weapons. They tread at the edge of a weakened cliff as it was, drawing steel now would be as inviting a herd of oliphaunts to join them for a picnic on that ledge.   
  
Halden did not speak; he was a shrewd man. Faramir could see this. Krisk, in his foolish impudence, proved Halden's point clearer than any words he could say. The men on Krisk's side began to jeer and shout again, swords were drawn and old knives were brandished against the ash staves and sickles of the farmer villagers.   
  
What was the spark that ignited the bloodlust of Krisk's men, Aragorn was never sure. There was only a harsh cry, then a scream, and then silence. Dead silence. A villager fell. Krisk's bloodied blade glistened in the flickering light of the torches. "You have gone too far, vile creature!" cried Halden, his stern expression replaced by the face of one who had lost one of his own family to the hands of a beast, a beast who had known full well what it had done.   
  
Aragorn mirrored Halden's expression. At a word from his Steward, guards dismounted ready to seize the man who had committed this murder. But fate was against them. Krisk had chosen his followers well, too well. They did not back when the king's men approached, in fact, it was much the opposite. Swords were drawn, challenging anyone to dare and take their leader. But it would prove that Aragorn and his friends would not be alone in the struggle that was eminent. Halden's folk brandished their staves and harvesting tools, few of them carried arms.  
  
"Lay down your weapon, Krisk, I command you as your king. It is either that, or death." Aragorn said, the Flame of the West gripped tightly in one hand. Legolas beside him had his bow drawn taught, an arrow aimed at Krisk's throat.  
  
Krisk's lips curled, his sword arm raised. "Then I will die," his arm dropped. He ducked suddenly just as the elf's arrow left his bow. The arrow buried itself in the next approaching man's neck that was haplessly behind his leader. The calm before the storm had broken. The numbers of Krisk's men outnumbered even their small force joined with Halden's folk. But the mounted men counted as two, horse and man combined.   
  
Joining the screams of the slain men, were the anguished cries of women and children. There were a few, the brave few, that picked up whatever tool they could find and joined the fight alongside their loved ones. Many of these were slain or wounded little after they had entered the fray. Krisk's men had no mercy, they gave no quarter whether they fought men, women or mere babes. Gimli had slid from Arod's back the moment the first sword was drawn. Using the blunt head of his axe, he delivered great blows that knocked both wind, and ribs out of position.   
  
The folk of the village stayed by their king. Staff and dagger finding flesh, but not without a mortal price to many of the loyal few. How was it that it had come to this? Aragorn was grieved beyond measure to see his own people killing each other over land. But his grief would have turned to rage if his eyes had not been so quick. A man cloaked in dark raiment stood from where he had been concealed crouched on the hillside behind a rock. In his hands he held a bow, and arrow on the string. It was aimed at the unsuspecting back of one of his dearest friends.  
  
"Legolas! Move, get out of the way!"   
  
The elf turned slightly, catching the faint sound of his voice over the clatter and screams of the enraged men. But even to his keen hearing, he could not tell the words said. Aragorn looked back, the archer had drawn the string taught. He had no other choice. Digging his heels uncommonly hard into Roheryn's sides, he charged both over friend and foe, one thought on his mind prevailing over all else.   
  
From his position on the knoll, the archer's eyes widened. It was too late to catch the arrow now flying free, hissing savagely towards its target. But there was an obstruction that would wreck havoc.  
  
Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. All the warning Legolas had felt had thus far been nameless whispers, but now they shrieked to be heard. The air tightened 'round him, choking both breath and thought. He gasped, fighting against the sudden cloud that enveloped his mind. Legolas twisted in his seat, looking back to where Aragorn had last been, instinctively.   
  
Horror struck his heart, paralysing him.  
  
Aragorn was falling. His friend was falling from Roheryn's back. He need to move, needed to catch his friend before he fell. He couldn't let him fall! Dreamlike, he slid from Arod's back, stumbling and striking down any that hindered him. Light feet carried him over bloodied earth, but not even with the wings of the Eagle Lord could he reach him in time. There was no sound. The drama playing before pewter eyes was mute save for his own harsh breathing. Red stained a vision of black and grey, glaring and painfully stunning.   
  
Amidst the blur and undefined frenzy of chaotic battle, sharp and clear as a spring sky after a heavy rain, lay the king of Gondor and Arnor, Strider, Ranger of the North, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Estel, brother of the heart to Legolas. Death could almost be seen hovering behind the fallen man.  
  
Finally his voice returned to him, it was used for nothing but crying his friends name as he fell to his knees beside the body. An arrow, viciously built and crudely crafted protruded from the king's back. "Aragorn," he cried softly, his crystalline eyes darkening a shade. Legolas gathered his friend in his arms gently, wordlessly begging him to open his eyes and tell him he was fine and it was all nothing but a sick joke.   
  
All movement ceased, farmer folk and intruder alike stopped, their arms lowering as they looked to the pair. Faramir had taken the distraction, the king's guard - for all the good they did him - and the villagers in a rage fell upon Krisk's followers, slaying many, lying their wrath and grief upon them without mercy. It was Gimli who at last slayed the fleeing coward, Krisk. But all was in vain, the blood that was spilled that night did nothing to bring back the fleeting beats of Aragorn's heart. Not even Legolas's broken pleas could coax his friend's eyes to open.   
  
Not even the blood-curdling roar, that threatened to deafen all ears, could rouse the king. All eyes turned heavenward, lips parted, some uttered prayers, some cursed, many screamed. What it was, no one was sure at first, but some afterwards named it as fire born on the wings of the deep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC… 


	3. Miracle Of An Ancient Glory

Authors ~ Halo Son and Bill the Pony  
  
Disclaimer ~ Bill and I do NOT own LOTR (which is a major bummer really…I think most of the world wishes they owned them…) and we do NOT own Dragon Heart or the principle for it either.  
  
Rating ~ PG  
  
Authors' Notes ~ Halo: Okay now for anyone who has watched the film Dragon Heart, you might recognise some of the words in this chappie ^-^  
Bill: *backing away from angry reviewers and Aragorn fans* Just hurry up and post the chapter already!  
Halo: Meep! *posts chapter*  
  
  
Summary ~ A LOTR story with a twist from the film Dragon Heart. When Aragorn is wounded saving Legolas his only chance to live is to accept an offer from a dragon, but what are the consequences of his decision? When the King starts acting unlike himself, will anyone defy or go against him for the good of Gondor and its people?  
  
  
  
  
The Lord Of The Rings  
  
Dragon Heart  
  
Chapter 3-Miracle Of An Ancient Glory  
  
  
  
  
  
The ground seemed to jolt as four huge clawed feet slammed into the ground.  
  
A pair of giant wings that almost seemed to be coloured with blood were spread out wide before closing in on themselves, laying by the side of the body of the massive beast now standing between the folk of Minas Tirith and the village folk.  
  
Bright, almost fiery yellow eyes danced from one place to the other, taking in all that they saw.  
  
Legolas had Aragorn's still form held tightly in his grasp, instinctively holding him close to his body. He kept his head bowed down as bitter tears swept down his cheeks like a torrent.  
  
Legolas didn't need to look up to see what the beast before him was, he knew already, from the deafening cry that seemed the pierce the night as the arrow had pierced his friend's body.  
  
"A…dragon." The words were but a faint whisper from Faramir's mouth, for no one else could speak.  
  
A dragon, yes, you are not mistaken in that assumption," said the dragon with a voice of rock scraping rock. Twin flares of flame accented its eyes. "And you are a foolish mortal man."   
  
Gimli was perhaps the least phased of all the folk present, it was most likely due to his yet seething rage at all that was remotely evil. "I do not believe that I have ever met a dragon that speaks, beast." He brandished his axe, "What is your business here, foul demon? Do you think you can inflict more pain than what has been done already?" Gimli's inner fire equalled that of the flames in the dragon's eyes. "Let me warn you, scum of fire, that you will have me to reckon with if you dare to hinder our duty!"   
  
"You have a strong heart Dwarf, but you are as foolish as the rest if you believe you can duel with Ryuuna, flame of the sky." The dragon spoke in the same rough tongue before tilting his head slightly when his eyes gazed upon the elf holding Aragorn. He seemed curious, though his eyes narrowed at the same time, but when he spoke it was in a softer tone. "He is Aragorn, King of Gondor and Anor and of mortal men."  
  
"And how would you know that?" Faramir placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder, standing by the dwarf's side in confrontation of the great beast standing before them, his eyebrows knitted together.  
  
"Do you believe I would dwell in once place human?" Ryuuna's eyes narrowed upon the Steward, regarding him as little more than a weakness to Middle Earth. "Foolish mortal man." The words seemed to hiss from his throat.  
  
Ryuuna turned his eyes back upon the still body of Aragorn and started blankly, regarding him differently to how he had just berated Faramir and Gimli. One of his front clawed feet took a step forward and his lowered his head towards the king and the elf, who still had his head lowered.  
  
"Do not move any closer to our king!" a solider demanded, not feeling brave at all in front of Ryuuna, but loathed to let the dragon near Aragorn.  
  
Ryuuna's head moved so it faced the man who had spoken and his eyes became almost snake-like slits. He snorted.  
  
"If you fear I will harm your precious king you are mistaken human." Emphasising the word 'human' before his head tilted back towards the man and elf. "For there is nothing for me to harm. He is already dead."  
  
"You LIE!"  
  
Ryuuna's head snapped at the voice who had spoken and his fierce yellow eyes met narrowed and bitter tear filled blue eyes.  
  
Legolas's head was now upturned instead of bowed. Golden hair spilled across the elf's chest and Aragorn's pale face, though it seemed dull in comparison to how it used to shine.  
  
Eyes locked together, almost in a battle to gain dominance and against the raging emotions within the elf, Ryuuna seemed the more submissive.  
  
Instead of snapping back, as people expected, Ryuuna calmly replied, "Do you see the rise and fall of his chest, elf? Do you feel the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips? Does your heart say he is alive?"  
  
To this Legolas needn't answer, because he already knew it and once more, he lowered his head.   
  
Ryuuna nodded his head once, "'Aye, that is what I thought." His head turned to the village folk and he struck them with a terrifying glare. "In your greed to possess a strip of dirt, you have slain your own king. I hope you can live knowing what you have done."  
  
Men were shaking, women and children were sobbing and crying and the dragon snorted in disgust.  
  
Ryuuna's mind was fixed and he was ready to leave but something nagging in the back of his mind made him stop. Once more, but slowly this time, he turned his head and tilted it slightly and he watched Legolas holding Aragorn's body tightly to his chest with a kind of unfathomable curiosity.  
  
"You hold him as though he were a priceless treasure to you." Ryuuna commented to the elf in a voice that was completely opposite to how he had been speaking previously.  
  
Legolas slowly raised his head and for the second time his eyes met the dragon's, but this time the blue orbs were filled with pained grief and clouded crystal droplets that slipped down his ashen cheeks, collected under his chin and fell like pearls on to Aragorn's forehead.  
  
Ryuuna continued in the same soft tone, "And he must be if his death causes an immortal being to shed such bitter tears."   
  
"He…he is my best friend…" Legolas spoke so softly even Ryuuna had to strain to hear his words. "One of the best I have ever had in my life."  
  
"You call a mortal you're friend, yet do you not know some of terrible deeds men have done?" Ryuuna replied. "Was it not the very same blood running through his veins that allowed the ring of power to live?"  
  
"Aragorn has never been proud of that, but he is not like most men." Legolas spat back. He swallowed hard, struggling to breathe as grief overloaded his mind and his fingers unconsciously curled around strands of Aragorn's black hair. "I am blessed to have his friendship and I am proud to give him mine!"  
  
Ryuuna shook his head in disbelief of the elf's words, but spoke no words. Instead his face bore an expression as though he was trying to make a decision…but what it was only Ryuuna knew.  
  
Legolas' chin touched Aragorn's cold forehead and his fingers curled and gripped on to the man's dirtied garments, not wanting to let go.  
  
"Aragorn…you cannot be gone." The elf's voice softly pleaded, blending with the sour tears creeping down his face, not befitting the immortal being. "Please…do not leave…do not leave us…"  
  
Those words seemed to make the choice for the dragon and he took another slight step forward.  
  
"Remove the arrow from his back firstborn." He commanded.  
  
As Legolas looked up with a confused glaze in his eyes everyone else tensed, muscles freezing in wonderment and fear of what the dragon was now planning.  
  
When Legolas continued to just stare at Ryuuna, the dragon's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Do wish for me to help this man or not? Remove the arrow!"  
  
Legolas' fingers fumbled as Faramir stepped forward, offering his assistance by holding Aragorn's still form back facing up so the elf could see the black shaft protruding from his back.   
  
Legolas was not the only one who drew in a sharp breath at the sight of it. Women held their children closer to them and began sobbing even more while men flinched and shuffled from their places on the ground.  
  
Legolas did not want to touch the horrid arrow for fear of causing his human friend pain, but then this voice reminded him in the back of his mind, 'He's dead…he's dead…he's dead…'  
  
But if he was dead, then how did Ryuuna plan to help him? If his life had already ebbed away from this world then how could the dragon bring him back? They were just two of the many questions floating around in his mind as he grasped the arrow tightly and drew it out from Aragorn's back.  
  
Studying the wound for a moment; from the projection of it and how deep the arrow had imbedded itself within Aragorn, Legolas realised in horror that the sharp spear of the shaft had pierced the man's heart. His death would've been instant.  
  
Legolas' hands began shaking and the arrow slipped from his fingers and on to the ground. Grievous tears fell thick and fast down the elf's pale features and in one swift movement he wrapped his arms around Aragorn's chest and pulled him from Faramir so the body rested against his chest.  
  
"Aragorn…you should not…you should not have…not for me…oh valar, not for me…" He choked out, laying his face against the tattered black hair of the king. "That arrow…it was meant for me…not you. You should not have…"  
  
Ignoring the elf's broken sobs, Ryuuna proceeded to sit back on his haunches and lifted his clawed hands towards the armour scale plating of his chest.  
  
"What are you trying to accomplish foul demon?!" Gimli demanded, gripping his axe tightly. "You say you can help Aragorn, if so how do you propose to do that and why have you not said before? What are your true intentions beast?!"   
  
"Hold your tongue dwarf." Ruunya snapped, his eyes narrowing at Gimli and his wide nostrils flaring. "Now, witness what none have seen before you and none ever will again. Witness the miracle of an ancient glory."  
  
With wide eyes and ajar mouths, everyone watched as the great dragon used a single claw to make a long tear in the delicate flesh under the armour scale plate on his chest. Without pause or hesitation, Ruunya slipped in one clawed hand inside the tear and brought it back out, only now a soft but brilliantly bright red glow shone from it.  
  
Slowly Ruunya moved his clawed hand containing the bright red light moved towards Aragorn's still body while chanting the words, "Half my heart to make you whole. It's strength to purify your weakness."  
  
Red light danced on everyone's faces, its brilliance a symbol of hope among the men and warriors of Minas Tirith and a symbol of a miracle of the valar among the villagers.  
  
The light stung Legolas' eyes but he could not turn away from it, for the radiance of this wonder had him transfixed under its spell as did the undying song of Iluvitar. As the shinning red drew closer, Legolas turned his gaze to Aragorn's still form, which now lit up from the light.  
  
Ryuuna's clawed hand hovered directly over Aragorn's heart and to the stunned disbelief of those around him, the red light and the object at its centre disappeared into the body of king.  
  
A single anguishing moment later, in which everyone held they're breaths, Aragorn's chest rose as his mouth flew open and drew in precious air into his lungs.  
  
"Aragorn!" Legolas cried with joy, his blue eyes regaining their own familiar brilliance for which all those who knew the elf recognised. "You live! Oh Aragorn you live!"  
  
Aragorn's eyes flickered as he struggled to open them as awareness flooded with a rush into his being once more. To him it felt as though he had been sleeping for an immortal lifetime.   
  
He awoke to cheering and joyous crying and his mind pounded as he tried to take it all in. His eyes became half lidded and he instantly caught the gaze of the elf prince, looking down at him with unknown depths of relief and delight.  
  
"L-Legolas?" His voice was almost drowned out by the rapturous noise in the background. "What…what happened?"  
  
"Shh, do not speak Aragorn, save your strength." Legolas replied, stroking stray black strands of the man's hair from his face. Legolas then looked up with a brilliant smile of gratitude on his face to the dragon. "Thank you."  
  
Ryuuna snorted, "I just hope your trust of this human is well justified elf."  
  
In a suddenly movement, Ryuuna drew back his head and let a harrowing roar pierce the night's haunting sky. His wings abruptly burst sideways from the bulk of his body and opened themselves out like curtains trying to hide the moon. With several massive beats downwards of the wings, Ryuuna surged into the sky.  
  
His massive footprints and his eerie cry echoing through the night were the only traces of his place there upon the plains.  
  
People watched in a mixture of reverence and fright as the great dragon vanished from all sight. The flickering and crackling of the fire torches that several men held were the only sounds that filled the chilling air.  
  
Aragorn blinked in rapid succession as the screech finally stopped ringing in his ears and his head turned slowly to Legolas.  
  
"Legolas…was that a…dragon?"  
  
Legolas chuckled and nodded, "'Aye my friend, it was indeed a dragon." Legolas rose a hand to keep Aragorn from asking the next most obvious question. "I will tell you all that has transpired when we have returned to Minas Tirith and taken you to the Houses of Healing."  
  
Sensing his services were in need once again, Roheryn trotted forward, tossing his head as the elf stood up with Aragorn resting against him and Faramir came to the king's other side to help support him.  
  
The village folk watched with apprehension as the soldiers of Minas Tirith began shouting orders to each other and bustled into action.  
  
Legolas easily mounted Roheryn and extended his arms to grasp Aragorn's shoulders and, with Faramir's assistance, eased the man in front of him upon the horse's back.  
  
"Do not wait for us to mount or horses Legolas." Faramir spoke. "Go now and take Aragorn straight to the Houses of Healing."  
  
Legolas gave the steward and curt nod and whispered a few words into Roheryn's ears. The horse dipped his noble head once before his legs sprung into action and carried the man and the elf away from the battlefield and back towards Minas Tirith.  
  
Legolas drew in a shakily breath, the shock of everything that had happened settling upon him. He lowered his head a little and whispered into Aragorn's ears.  
  
"You should not have done that Estel. That arrow was meant for me."  
  
A low chortle was etched from the man's throat and his eyes sought those of the elf.  
  
"Would you expect any less of me?"  
  
Legolas shook his head a faint smile brushed across his lips, "No…I do not and that is why I knew something foul would happen. You should have heeded our counsel."  
  
Legolas had been proved right about his ill forewarnings, but what now frightened the elf more than the shock was the little voice nagging in the back of his mind that said that the ill happenings had only just begun.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC… 


	4. Living Nightmares

Authors ~ Halo Son and Bill the Pony  
Disclaimer ~ Bill and I do NOT own LOTR (which is a major bummer really…I think most of the world wishes they owned them…) and we do NOT own Dragon Heart or the principle for it either.  
Rating ~ PG  
Random Authors Jabbering ~ We have to give credit to "Yours Truly" who gave us the idea for the way we denote Aragorn's nasty thoughts. We highly suggest you go check her story "Master in Deceiving" out. Wonderful! 

Bill: *Chortles and dances around Halo* I wrote faster than yooouuu, I wrote faster than yooouuu.  
Halo:*Glowering* Oh shush.

Bill: *Still prancing*

Halo: *Launches Jello mold*

Bill: Ow…

Halo: *Big grin, walks of whistling*  
Summary ~ A LOTR story with a twist from the film Dragon Heart. When Aragorn is wounded saving Legolas his only chance to live is to accept an offer from a dragon, but what are the consequences of his decision? When the King starts acting unlike himself, will anyone defy or go against him for the good of Gondor and its people?  


**__**

The Lord Of The Rings

Dragon Heart

Chapter 4 – Living Nightmares 

-

Dawn rose red on the horizon, staining the clouds crimson. As the morning drew on bloody clouds faded to gold, promising a new day of hope. Two nights had passed since the fateful events in the village. Two nights had Legolas sat by the bedside of the king, his friend, waiting patiently for him to wake. It had been a exhausting vigil, tiresome and trying to heart and mind. But on this the beginning of the third morning, Aragorn had awakened from his healing rest and risen to greet the morn. 

Legolas, and Aragorn's dearest folk, watched with growing awe at the king's speedy recovery of strength. Even the healers, including Aragorn himself, were quite amazed. Within the span of a few hours, Aragorn had improved tremendously having taken a hearty meal and a short, but refreshing walk in the gardens with Arwen hovering at his shoulder. 

So while Aragorn prepared to take on many of his former duties, with a contingent of healers hounding after him, Legolas was quickly succumbing to his inevitable exhaustion. No body, elvish or not, was meant to go sleepless for too many days after too much trial. That night, the third night, Legolas found his usual guest quarters and fell limply into bed, paying no heed to the frivolities of turning down the bed covers or changing from his soiled clothing. Under normal circumstances, the feel of three day old dirt mingled with blood against his skin when he could have easily cleansed himself would have drove him to near distraction. But these days were hardly normal. 

The Elf lay himself down wearily, his hands clasped over his breast. Tight muscles loosened as the tension eased from his body, but his jumbled thoughts refused to leave him at peace. Aragorn would recover, he told himself repeatedly, all would return to normal. He had nothing to worry about now. Aragorn's life had been returned to him by the grace of Eru Ilúvitar, he should rejoice and be glad with all he had.

Then why did his heart nag him? Why, when his exhausted dreams take him, did they herald woe?

---

The fresh breeze of the new morning caught Aragorn's dark hair, now hinting streaks of grey. His damp mood rivaled the beauty of the bright sun. By all rights he knew he had no good cause to feel thus, but his patience was wearing painfully thin. He had had quite enough attention, expressions of concerns and badgering questions pertaining to his remarkable recovery and about what had happened that night. 

What troubled him was not so much the questions and the concerns, but his own feelings. Annoyance was to be expected from an independent ranger turned king, but why did he feel anger towards any that dared to approach him? His mind seemed detached from his heart. 

__

My heart, he thought darkly, _is it really my heart? Nay, Legolas and Faramir explained what had happened that night. _He would be lying if he were to say that he understood fully what had taken place as he expected everyone would. A dragon offering a portion of his own heart to a mortal man was not an easily comprehensible matter. 

{Or, my king, you are ignorant and they try to keep you as such.}

Aragorn started at the voice, or rather, the thought. The idea seemed preposterous, surely Legolas would not be so deceitful. 

{Are you sure?}

Of course he was sure! Legolas, nor any of his friends would do such…could they?

"Good morning, Aragorn!"

His head snapped around sharply, a frustrated breath escaping him in a rush to be free at the sight of his elven friend.

{Is he really a friend?} Pondered the voice innocently.

Aragorn hid his frown behind a smile. "Legolas, you startled me." He pulled his friend to sit beside him on the stone bench, eager to have some distraction for his troubled mind. "Did you finally give up your foolish pride and rest?"

Legolas sighed wearily, not bothering to cover his unrest. "Aye, but it did little to give any rest to either mind or body I fear." 

"What was it that hindered your rest?" 

The Elf normally would speak freely of his thoughts and concerns, but some warning held his tongue back. "My dreams were, troubled. Something ate at my heart that I cannot name." 

Aragorn's brow pinched, naturally worried over any unease the Elf felt. Not easily did the elven race dream ill. He remained silent though, something in his heart, the _new_ half, told him to not speak as well. He knew not why but he felt compelled to listen.

Legolas tore his attention away from his own selfish thoughts to look to his friend. "And how about you, Aragorn, how did you rest?" 

Honestly, he had slept badly, but…

{Why should you tell him that? He will use it against you.} 

{What do you mean? How could he use honesty against me?}There was no answer. Silent and snobbishly smug part of himself remained silent. {Tell me!} 

"Aragorn? Are you well?" Legolas broke into his disturbing thoughts, he peered carefully at Aragorn's face. 

"Yes, I am well," he said, though he did not feel it in the least.

---

Eldarion had been watching his father like a hawk ever since Gimli had torn – as fast as a Dwarf could hasten anywhere on their stout legs - into the common room he, Elladan, Elrohir and his mother had been lounging in, informing them hurriedly of the happenings in brief. Even more careful was his watch in his father's waking. The horror of the thought of loosing his dear father so early in his short life was enough to drive him to near madness. 

It was his fear, and his love, that drove him to follow his father wherever he tread, no matter his father's bitter protests. But it was through his devoted hounding that he began to notice a subtle change in his father. A change that only a son could see. 

The king was a good man, the best man that had ever lived in Eldarion's mind. A patient man with a fair temper, but with a strong hand. Yes, he did have a heavy hand at times, but it was because of his love for his son that he did not restrain correction. He was quick to laugh and easy to a smile. 

Then why did he exude so much frustration? Or was it anger?

The prince of the Reunited Kingdom blew a heavy breath, looking down from the high balcony above where Legolas and Aragorn sat in the garden. Their voices were too soft to hear clearly, but from the tone of Legolas's voice, the Elf was worried, no, maybe simply weary. He hated to doubt his father's heart, but this feeling he emanated made Eldarion extremely uneasy.

"Spying, eh?"

Eldarion jumped slightly at the deep baritone sounding behind him. The Dwarf swaggered to the railing, shaggy brows diving into a frown. "Well of course," Gimli grumbled, "those fool men would have forgotten that the king might be entertaining dwarves when they built this railing."

Eldarion gave a cursory glance at the railing, not seeing anything particularly wrong with it. "I am sorry Gimli, but my eyes fail to see what is wrong with the construction of the rails," he apologized, not wishing to be dense. 

Gimli grunted, making a motion with his hands gesturing something about his height. Eldarion figured it out then. Gimli stood a good three inches below the top intricate beam, subject to peer out of the railing bars like a caged beast, not the most adored prospect for a Dwarf. 

They stood in silence, neither sure whether it was his turn to speak. Gimli took it upon himself to break their awkward silence. "You worry for your father, it is admirable, but you needn't fret over him so." Gimli laughed, turning to heft himself into a chair too large for his stout legs to reach the ground. "Legolas has taken care of the fretting for quite a few years now. Though the stubborn Elf would doubtless revoke me about fretting, saying that is quite an un-elvish trait." His great girth relaxed into the cushions, aged eyes winked at him, "Aragorn will recover, lad. Never fear about that. He always does and it matters little if it is as minor as a pricked finger to plain and simply dying."

Eldarion laughed for the first time in quite a few days, the Dwarf's easy one-sided argument bringing him to a better peace of mind, that was until an angered voice sounding distinctly like his father was lifted to their ears.

---

"No Legolas, you do not understand, nor could you or would you," he fumed. Far louder than need be for the Elf's ears to hear him clearly.

Legolas's high brow furrowed, unaccustomed to such vehemence directed towards him from the mouth of his friend. "Then, Aragorn, explain to me what I do not understand. I wish to help you Aragorn, but I cannot when you refuse to tell me what is eating at you," the Elf countered levelly.

Aragorn stood to his feet in a rush, his fists clenched. "Perhaps, dear Legolas, you would find it more convenient to leave me be and turn your badgering and attentions elsewhere." His cold voice turned strangely bitter. "Such as to honing your reflexes so that next time we find ourselves together in a mite of peril, I will not be struck down on your behalf again!"

The Elf's face tightened, a naked flinch twisting his face painfully. There was neither humor in the king's face nor any hint of apology for his harsh words. But in his ears he heard no harsh accusation made in anger – as the half-Elf and Dwarf above them - but a statement of truth. How it hurt to hear his own thoughts spoken aloud. 

He blinked, stepping away from the bench. He hadn't even realized that he had risen when Aragorn's voice had turned ill. "Ai, Aragorn," he choked out softly, "I am sorry. Terribly sorry." 

Half of Aragorn's heart gloated in smug satisfaction at the pain that so evidently crossed the Elf's face. {Look in his eyes and see his self-loathing, look at his guilt. Revel in it, my king, grasp it as a token of retribution for all the pain he has inflicted upon you.}

The other half of him, the real half, revolted at the horrible, hateful thought. Finally, his own – his first – heart won out. But the deed was done, and it was too late. His stony face fell, blinking as if waking from a dark dream. "Legolas, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, truly I am sorry…"

Legolas recoiled from his apology, not having the hope to believe that he was indeed innocent. He wasn't, he knew it, Aragorn had been right all along. "Nay, Aragorn, do not apologize," he shuddered, backing another step. "You're right, I know." He looked desperately for an escape, some reason to fly from this place. _To fly like a criminal._

Part of the king's heart twisted with grief as his Elven friend fled with rushed paces down the cobblestone path, his shoulders ridged. What had ever possessed him to say those cruel words? What _did_ possess him?

---

{Where is your strength, my king? Your people talk behind your back, they could turn on you one day if you do not lay down your fist now.} The voice was soft as fine silk cloth, as convincing as the eyes of a child. Curse this vile part of him that thought such! What madness had taken hold of him?

Aragorn turned his face to the open air, framed beyond his window, hoping with a vain wish that the clean scent of the wind would sweep away his dark thoughts. The laughter of children floating from the gardens below belayed the turmoil in his soul. He had fled to his high chambers, seeking out solace in the quiet of his study. But no peace was to be had. The sounds of merriment changed abruptly, good nature and joy twisting to scornful laughter. He almost could pick out the words of mocking treason. 

He slammed an angry fist against the wall. Aragorn did not finch when pain burst in his hand as it connected with unyielding rock. He welcomed it. The pain told him that he was yet human, not the monster he felt he was. Clinching his teeth, he turned and tried to direct his thoughts to other things. But it was to no avail, even when he brought up the coming duties he would have to attend at court. 

{Hmm, interesting. Do you think that you can really hold such an honored and powerful position while your subjects – yes, your subjects – run free without restraint?} So easy were his thoughts, so reasonable and so sultry they seemed to him. He pondered for a moment. Maybe his thoughts did not lead him astray? After all, it was a running rabble of men that had nearly succeeded in slaying him. Most likely, if he had had a harder fist then they would have been executed at their first upstart. Maybe, just maybe, there was nothing wrong with his aspiring thoughts after all…

{Yes, you think wisely. You are a king. I am a king. To be a king is to rule and conquer. To rule is to conquer, and you will never conquer until you rid your kingdom of free will.}

His thoughts – his own thoughts- had presumed too much about his state of mind. His hands gripped the edge of the window tightly, a growl lacing his throat. This evil voice would not take him so easily; he would not allow it. Aragorn bowed his head against the onslaught, resting his forehead against the cool stone. These thoughts of selfish gain were not natural to his mind. Something was terribly wrong.

****

TBC…


End file.
